


have a little faith, baby

by sevilleteen (avalanches)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, slight angst, this is so long overdue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-08 14:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8848510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalanches/pseuds/sevilleteen
Summary: Jeonghan wants to have faith, he really does. It's hard when you know that your soulmate could leave you any moment though.





	1. when time stopped

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bcllamyblaake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcllamyblaake/gifts).



> The clock on your hand counts down the exact time that you get to spend with your soulmate, not to the time when you will meet your soulmate. So basically, if your number says 80:20, it means that you have approximately 80 years left to be with your soulmate. In other words, when your clock says 00:00, your soulmate has left this world. The numbers on your clock will light up with the same colour as your soulmate’s when you touch for the first time. 
> 
> This was supposed to be a one-shot but it ended up being too long, and I got tired of typing it. 
> 
> This is written for my beloved Ange bub! So sorry it took so long to deliver I hope you like it!
> 
> part 2 coming soon i was too tired to finish all of it so i split it into 2 parts! feedback is appreciated as always!

\--

 

The first time his soulmate clocked stopped working was when he was eight.

 

Jeonghan hadn’t found his soulmate yet, he was only young after all. However, there was a sharp beep and his wrist burned, causing him to let out a yelp and drop his lunchbox on the table. His mother had gasped as his family gazed down in worry at the numbers inked into the inside of his left wrist.

 

They said 00:00.

 

They had been showing 73:29 before, and Jeonghan, being the young innocent boy that hadn’t even had a single inkling about love, had never given it much thought. The zeros on his wrist suddenly gripped him with fear and his mind was filled with questions. Was his soulmate dead? What was going to happen to him now? _Was he never going to have a soulmate?_

 

His wrist burned, and his chest burned as well, licks of an indescribable feeling at his heart as tears fell from his eyes. He stared despairingly at the numbers, trying to blink away his tears. Was this how people felt when they lost their soulmate?

 

He was jerked out of his thoughts by a squeal, this time by his younger sister as she pointed at his wrist, her tiny hand pressed to her mouth. He snapped his gaze back to his soulmate clock just in time to see the blue numbers flicker before fading out a bit. He blinked, unsure how to react before the numbers sharpened and focused back into four numbers.

 

26:55

 

Jeonghan didn’t know how to react, but the burning had subsided and the burning in his chest was gone as well. He sniffed and reached for a tissue to wipe his face, his eyes glued to the number that had resetted by themselves. He looked up at his mom, worry written all over her face, She smiled, wiped away the rest of his tears, and pressed his lunchbox into his hands, assuring him that everything was alright.

 

Jeonghan wasn’t sure what was happening, but as his legs carried him on the way to school, he knew that his soulmate wouldn’t be a simple person.

 

He could feel the phantom burn of the clock against his skin, and he was scared of it.

 

\-----

 

The second time it happened was the night before Jeonghan turned eleven.

 

He was lying in bed, disinterestedly flipping pages of a random magazine when he felt the burning under his oversized sweater. Biting his lip to refrain from crying out, he yanked his sleeve up to find the number back to four zeros, fading in and out of focus while the burning continued.

 

His mom came into the room just as the tears started again, and she immediately crawled onto his bed and took his hand in his.

 

The flickering was longer this time, Jeonghan worried his lip until it began to bleed and dug his fingerpads into the soft worn fabric of his mom’s favourite cardigan. He kept his eyes on the numbers, barely hearing his mom’s soothing voice as she mumbled words of comfort to him,

 

_What was happening to his soulmate?_

 

It took about half an hour for the digits to stop shifting in and out of focus, but that thirty minutes had seemed like forever to Jeonghan.

 

The numbers resettled into a new time.

 

20:07

 

It was also at that exact time that Jeonghan turned eleven years old.

 

\----

 

It never stopped, the burnings, and Jeonghan hated them. He would wake up in the middle of the night to the pain on his wrist and the parallel scorching in his heart, tears running down his face as he ached for the person he had yet to find. He didn’t know why he felt that way, but there was a tinge of desperation as he grasped his wrist, praying that the numbers wouldn’t stay at the zeros again, or that they would even go there.

 

When he was fifteen, his parents sat him down in the living room, his mom took his hands and gently told him what they thought was happening to his soulmate.

 

They believed that his soulmate suffered from a debilitating disease, one that constantly put his or her life in danger and caused them a lot of pain. That would explain why Jeonghan’s soulmate clock was inconsistent and the numbers kept changing. They explained that so long his clock kept ticking, his soulmate would still be alive; but if the numbers stayed one day at the four zeros, it meant that his soulmate would have succumbed to the disease.

 

“He, or she, seems to have a lot of fighting spirit, though,” his mom had told him through a watery smile, her hands trembling as she held her son’s. His dad’s face had been set in a serious expression from the beginning, but it now softened as he reached forward to set a comforting hand on top of theirs, gripping them reassuringly.

 

“You’ll find your soulmate, Jeonghan. It doesn’t matter if it’s a girl or a boy, it doesn’t matter that they don’t have long to live; nothing really matters. That’s because I believe that whoever your soulmate is, they will love you with their heart.”

 

Jeonghan had never experienced love before, but he thought that he understood what his father was trying to tell him. Perhaps, ‘love’ was the name that could be put as a label to the burn he felt inside his chest whenever he watched the numbers flicker on his wrist, late in the nights when he was up studying for his exams. Maybe it was what put a smile on his face as the numbers increased and his wrist didn’t hurt on certain days; he wasn’t sure, but it sure sounded close to what he thought what ‘love’ would be.

 

He smiled a little, watching the numbers tick down on his wrist.

 

34:30.

 

Jeonghan’s father tilted his son’s face up to hold his gaze, brown eyes searching his identical ones as he pressed his lips together.

 

“I want you to promise me something about your soulmate, Jeonghan.”

 

\----

 

Studying to get into National Seoul University was already tough enough, but Jeonghan, having decided that he would be a doctor, had suffered more heavily than the majority of the student population.

 

Standing at the front of the university gates, he chewed on his lip as his phone buzzed inside his pocket, signaling that he had a message. He pulled it out of his pocket with his left wrist, tucking his wallet into his back pocket with his right, intending to just read the message on the screen.

 

His phone clattered to the stone pavement, his wallet dropped behind him, spilling his cards and coins all over the place, earning him strange looks from the passerbys as they watched him drop to his knees clutching his wrist.

 

His wrist fucking _hurt_.

 

No, screw that, everything hurt like his world was ending; this was nothing like the pains that he had experienced previously. His vision was blurring, the voices around him faded out and oh _god_ , everything was on fire.

 

“Hey, whoa, whoa, come, breathe with me, c’mon.”

 

There were hands on his, guiding him to the side gently, and they were wrapping soothingly around his fingers. As soon as it appeared, the pain subsided, and Jeonghan was blinking down at his own wrist, dotted with his own tears, at the numbers fizzling out before focusing back into a new set of numbers.

 

29:50

 

“Hey, you alright?”

 

He looked up to find the owner of the hands on his watching him closely, dark brown eyes scrunched together in confusion. Jeonghan let out a deep breath, his gaze dropping down to the numbers on his wrist again.

 

“I’m fine,” he smiled at the other, wiping away the tears on his face with his sleeve.

 

“My soulmate might not be though,” Jeonghan’s heart twisted painfully at the words coming out of his mouth. The idea that he would not be able to find, or spend time with his soulmate at all just pained him; had he come this far to not even meet them once?

 

“Hey, my name’s Jisoo” there was a warm smile on the other’s face as he held out a hand, the corner of his eyes crinkled up to watch the sunny stretch of his lips. Jeonghan smiled back him, dabbed at his eyes and took the hand proffered.

 

“I’m Jeonghan. Nice to meet you too.”

 

\----

 

Jisoo might not have been his soulmate, but he became a constant part of his world.

 

For an English major, Jisoo kept a surprisingly wide variety of friends, in which he later explained to Jeonghan when they were sitting in a booth at the local campus pub together with shots of vodka and rum in front of them.

 

“That’s Soonyoung, he’s a dance major. The small, angry guy beside him is Jihoon, he’s a music major. Rumor is that he’s already got a major contract with one of the biggest entertainment companies,” Jisoo introduced them easily, and the two nodded back at Jeonghan, their hands entwined. Soonyoung had a contagious smile and laugh, and he had giggled into his beer when Jihoon had been introduced as small and angry.

 

Jihoon had merely groaned into his tonic water before detangling their fingers, reaching a hand out towards Jeonghan. “Lee Jihoon, sorry about Soonyoung, he’s always giggly when he gets tipsy. Nice to meet you, med student right?”

 

Jeonghan nodded back at Jihoon, his eyes locked on the hand Soonyoung had on the other man’s thigh. Soonyoung caught his gaze, his own eyes flickering to Jeonghan’s wrist where it was covered by the long sleeve of his sweater.

 

“Oh,” Soonyoung mouthed, setting his beer down. Jeonghan smiled back at him, shaking his head before opening his mouth to reply to the other man.

 

He barely felt the splash of the liquid of his brandy on his shoes; any other time, Jeonghan would have been horrified that he had gotten alcohol on his expensive Guess dress shoes. However, he could only feel the pain shooting through his veins, the burning under his skin as he clamped his hand around his left wrist.

 

It _hurt_ , oh god, it hurt _so much_.

 

His world was a blur. He barely registered arms helping him up, barely realised that he was stumbling out of the pub until the cool night air hit him in the face. He barely felt the warm hands that soothed his back as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the drain outside the pub, the pain stabbing needles into chest and amplifying the twists in his stomach.

 

After the bile stopped coming up, Jeonghan blinked a few times before his knees buckled and gave out under him. The hands on his back were still there and a plastic cup of water was shoved into his hand. He looked up blearily into Jihoon’s face, the pink-haired boy brushing his sticky bangs out of his face.

 

“Drink,” Jihoon’s voice was firm and warm, but still sounded too loud in Jeonghan’s ears. He hastily obeyed, gulping down half the water in the cup before taking deep breaths, calming himself as the world settled itself around him again. That was when it hit him.

Jeonghan scrabbled at his wrist, dropping the cup and ignoring Jihoon’s annoyed gasp as the contents splashed into the drain where he had just vomited into. The smooth material of his sweater kept slipping out of his fingers, but he finally managed to yank it up to expose his wrist.

 

15:17

 

“Thank god,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the outline of the numbers, “thank god, you’re still alive, I can still find you.” The tears had started sliding down his face again, but he wouldn’t care less; he still had a chance at finding his soulmate.

 

“Hey,” Soonyoung’s voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to find all three of his friends watching him worriedly. Jisoo was still stroking his back, the corners of his mouth turned down and his brows furrowed. Soonyoung nodded once, before slipping out of sight around the corner. Jihoon carefully reached forwards and wrapped his fingers around Jeonghan’s wrist, his other hand reaching forward to tuck his fringe behind his ear.

 

“Let’s go home.”

  


\----

 

The attacks had become less frequent, but the numbers didn’t go up that much more. Jeonghan had managed to get through five years of med school with minor casualties during his exams. Now, he was here in his sixth year, starting his preparation for the Korean Medical Licensing Examination, and getting sweaty palms from waiting to meet the doctor that he was going to be shadowing for the first semester of his last year.

 

Dr. Jung Hoseok was a bubbly, joyful person, and according to the quick chat that Jeonghan had with the nurses, was the youngest, but one of the most capable in the Haematology Department. He had smiled at Jeonghan, shook his hand, and had spoken to him professionally without being condescending or arrogant. Jeonghan had immediately taken a liking to him, and shadowing Dr. Jung around the whole day had only cemented his positive opinion of the man. He spoke kindly to the patients but did not mask truths, smiled widely at the children and cheered them on, was firm with his staff but did not hesitate to compliment them whenever they did something well. He was kind, informative, and had a wide smile as he asked Jeonghan to join him for dinner at the end of the day.

 

“Gotta know you better right? I want you to choose this hospital for your general practice,” was all the explanation Dr. Jung offered, his face split open in a wide smile as he held the door open for Jeonghan.

 

He couldn’t say no to that.

 

After dinner, Dr. Jung had sent him off, smiling and shaking his hand, stating that he had to go back to the hospital. Jeonghan had smiled back, packed his bags, and drove back to the apartment he now shared with Jisoo, Soonyoung and Jihoon.

 

At night, as he flopped down on the couch in between Soonyoung and Jisoo (Jihoon was sleeping at his studio), he glanced at the numbers on his wrist and smiled as he chewed on the brownies that Jisoo had baked.

 

35:17

 

“Oh my, it went up,” exclaimed Soonyoung, stealing a chunk of brownie from Jeonghan’s plate. On a normal day, Jeonghan would have stolen a chunk back from his roommate’s plate, but today was a good day, so he let him be.

 

Jisoo set the cans of beer on the coffee table in front of them, raised an eyebrow at the the smile plastered on Jeonghan’s face. He bumped Jeonghan’s knee with his and popped the tab on his can of flavored water. All these years and the church boy still refused to drink despite being a constant presence in all the campus pubs.

 

“Hey, you think you ever gonna meet your soulmate?”

 

Jeonghan looked at the numbers, reached for a can of beer, buried his face in the pillow that he had been hugging. Aware that his cheeks were flushed pink, and it wasn’t from the beer (he hadn’t even had a sip yet), he nodded back at his best friend.

 

\----

 

It was twelve-thirty in the afternoon when Jeonghan met him.

 

It had been right after he had another attack, gripping at toilet bowl until his knuckles turned white as the pain threatened to force his lunch back up his throat. The pain had subsided luckily right before his break ended, but there was still a dull throb at the back of his head.

 

He had been doing rounds with Dr. Jung as they stopped to talk to a patient, one sporting bright red hair and a boxy smile. He had lymphoma, one that couldn’t be cured with chemotherapy, and his body was too skinny under the hospital robes, his wrists too thin under the sleeves with the numbers 00:170 inked into the pale skin. He had a rare blood type, and Jeonghan knew that they probably would not be able to find a compatible donor for him to carry out a bone marrow transplant. Furthermore, he had a very frail body, and Dr. Jung had mentioned that even if he were to receive a transplant, there would be 99.99 percent chance that his body would just collapse on itself due to it rejecting the new cells.

 

Jeonghan had noted the way Dr. Jung’s fingers had lingered on his wrists a little longer than usual and the distracted way the doctor had scribbled the updates on Kim Taehyung’s chart, refusing to meet the younger patient’s eyes. He had seen the way Taehyung looked at Dr. Jung, the helplessness swimming in his large brown eyes, the way the younger man had opened his mouth only to close it again. The two clearly had some history, but it wasn’t Jeonghan’s place to be a busybody, so he just kept his mouth shut.

 

The door to the ward opened and he had looked up with Dr. Jung, both their gazes settling on the man in the wheelchair that was being moved toward the empty bed beside Taehyung. Nurse Bae had handed Dr. Jung the clipboard with his chart on it before moving to help the patient into his bed. Jeonghan hadn’t been focused on his chart; he was more focused on the man himself.

 

He had dark black hair that fell into his large eyes, set over a face chiseled out from repeated chemotherapy, and thick pouty lips that were opened in a laugh at something that Nurse Bae was telling him. He had managed to settle himself into bed, gently pushing Nurse Bae away, insisting that he would be fine. His laugh was beautiful, clear, like shrine bells ringing on a Saturday afternoon with the cool autumn wind blowing through your hair.

 

“Seungcheol-ah!”  


Taehyung called out to him, his mouth set in his usual boxy grin, reaching out a hand in an attempt to swat at the new patient. The raven (Seungcheol, his mind provided idly) laughed, reached his hand over to slap the redhead’s palm affectionately before tickling at his fingers, causing the other to pull back with a pout on his face.

 

“Good to see you again, Taehyungie!” Seungcheol’s smile was even wider and he looked from the other patient to the doctor standing beside Jeonghan. “You too, Doc Hobi!”

 

Dr. Jung laughed, walking over to stand between Taehyung’s and Seungcheol’s bed, handing the latter’s chart over to Nurse Bae before reaching out to ruffle the dark black hair affectionately.

 

“Seungcheol-ah, why are you back here?” Dr. Jung questioned, pulling out his stethoscope, checking his heartbeat, the smile on his face a little even more strained than before. The raven shrugged, letting the doctor check his heartbeat, eyes darting all around the room before settling his gaze on Jeonghan.

 

“I don’t know, my myeloma just acted up again just now. Hey, who are you?” the question was directed at him, and Jeonghan felt the blood rushing to his cheeks as he fumbled with his notebook and pens, dropping one to the floor in the process. He hurriedly bent down to pick it up before sliding back to Dr. Jung’s side, nodding at the patient.

 

_Just now._

 

The words echoed in his ears, but he shook his head, trying to ignore the dull pain at the back of his skull. It couldn’t be, it wouldn’t be so coincidental that he would meet his soulmate like this; he still had a long way to go, still had to complete med school and sit for his KMLE. He wasn’t ready to meet his soulmate, not like this when he was still unsure and fumbling.

 

“I’m Yoon Jeonghan,” he mumbled, aware of Taehyung’s gaze burning intensely into his back, “I’m in my last year of med school, I’m shadowing Dr. Jung for this semester.”

 

Seungcheol’s eyes lit up, and he offered a hand to Jeonghan, smiling that toothy grin that made his eyes crinkle up at the corners. Jeonghan thought he looked kind of like a camel.

 

“Choi Seungcheol. I’m in and out of here sometimes, but I haven’t been back in a while. I’ve known Taehyungie since we were ten! Oh, and also Dr. Hobi has been my doctor since about...three years back? You call him Dr. Jung, how cute!” Jeonghan could feel his ears burning at the laugh that escapes Seungcheol’s lips, but he coughed and laughed with Dr. Jung, tucking his notebook under his elbow and reaching out to take the patient’s hand.

 

15:30.

 

The numbers on the side of his wrist are lit up, and they weren't the only numbers glowing.

 

Choi Seungcheol looked up at him through his dark lashes, his mouth open in surprise, the lines around his eyes soft. The room around them was deathly silent.

 

“Oh.”

 

\----

 

It was very hard not to fall in love with Choi Seungcheol.

 

The raven was loud, enthusiastic, and funny without even trying. He always talked to Jeonghan, even when Nurse Bae was taking his blood for a test, or when Dr. Jung was checking him out and down. He asked Jeonghan weird, small questions as they finished their rounds, right before they left the ward to go to the next one.

 

“Hey, Jeonghan, what is your favourite colour? I can’t pick one, so mine are red and white.”

 

“Hey, do you have a celebrity you wanna meet? I want to go to Taeyang’s concert and meet him. It would be so cool.”

 

“I did taekwondo before my myeloma made it too hard for me to continue. Do you do sports, Jeonghan?”

 

Jeonghan had never found the courage to answer back, only smiling at him and closely sticking to Dr. Jung, keeping his head buried in his notebook. He couldn’t believe that he had met his soulmate just like that, and that he was lying in a hospital bed while he tailed a doctor around.

 

On the bright side, there had been no attacks since Seungcheol had moved into the ward; no more pain shooting up his wrist, no more stabbing headaches that made him hunch over the toilet bowl. He couldn’t deny the effect that the other’s wide, gummy smile had on him, that it made his heart beat a little faster, made warmth blossom in his chest. He liked the way Seungcheol would play with his fingers as Dr. Jung talked to Taehyung in the other bed, liked the way that Seungcheol would rest his head against his arm, liked the way that Seungcheol pouted up at him whenever he purposely ignored the other in favour of scribbling notes down.

 

He slipped Seungcheol notes, scribbling them on the post-its that he had attached at the back of his noted. The notes were answers to the questions that the patient kept asking him, and he just couldn’t resist throwing him a wave or even blowing him a quick kiss as he exited the ward with Dr. Jung. Seungcheol would always catch his kiss, or wave back as he wiped non-existent tears from his eyes, mouthing “please don’t go” in the most dramatic fashion possible.

 

“He’s such a drama-queen,” Dr. Jung commented offhandedly as they were in his office, shifting through the paperwork as they sipped on the peppermint mochas that Nurse Bae had dropped off before she had left to go back to her hometown for Christmas.

 

Jeonghan laughed, thinking of the way that Seungcheol had leaned up to kiss him quickly before they had to leave. His lips were soft, and he tasted like chocolate on a chilly winter evening. He felt like home, welcoming, and warm, and Jeonghan had wanted to curl up beside him in his bed and refuse to follow the doctor around for the rest of the shifts.

 

“I love him,” Jeonghan didn’t even know that he had said it out loud. He clapped his hands over his mouth, the pen that he had been holding clattering to the desk, his cheeks burning from the embarassment. Dr. Jung merely looked up at him from the papers he was flipping through before looking down again before continuing his perusal.

 

“You should tell him that.”

 

Jeonghan didn’t miss the downcast look that seemed to settle on Dr. Jung’s face afterwards.

 

Tomorrow, he would tell Seungcheol tomorrow.

 

\----

 

“Doc Hobi said that I should do a stem cell transplant.”

 

Jeonghan looked up from his notebook to find Seungcheol twisting his fingers nervously. Dr. Jung was talking quietly to Taehyung at his bed, his tone angry and hushed while the younger patient didn’t look too happy either. He leaned forward and pried Seungcheol’s fingers apart gently, tilting his head forward to look at his soulmate in the eye.

 

“Have they managed to find a compatible donor?”

 

Seungcheol nodded, biting his lip as he looked back at the student, his eyes watery and his eyelashes wet. Jeonghan rubbed comforting circles on the back of Seungcheol’s hands, leaned forward to press his lips to kiss away the distressed look on the patient’s face. When he broke away, Seungcheol whined and leaned forward, chasing his lips for another one.

 

“Do it, alright?”

 

Seungcheol let out a whine, leaning forward to bury his face into Jeonghan’s shoulder, hands clutching at his soulmate’s desperately. Jeonghan turned his face, pressing kisses into the raven locks that he had grown to love. His heart couldn’t help but clench at the thinning locks that had lost some of their shine due to the chemotherapy and the radiation therapy that the other had to undergo as part of his treatment.

 

“What is it? Do you not want to do it?”

 

Seungcheol lifted his face up from his shoulder, avoiding his gaze. Jeonghan wanted to ask him what was wrong, wanted to grab his face and kiss the other’s frown away, wanted to stay in bed with him and cuddle the whole day away.

 

“Jeonghan, we’re going.”

 

Dr. Jung’s tone was short and clipped, and Seungcheol gently pushed him away, pointedly avoiding his gaze at the same time. Jeonghan’s heart twisted a little at the other’s open rejection of him, but he let go of him, not without leaning down to press one last kiss to his soulmate’s lips.

 

“Think about it okay. I love you.”

 

The words had Seungcheol’s eyes blowing wide open, and Jeonghan felt the heat rushing to his cheeks as he registered what had come out of his mouth. He picked up his notebook and his pens, stumbling just a bit over his feet as he hurried towards the door towards Dr. Jung.

 

He didn’t miss the way Dr. Jung’s lips were turned down at the corners, the tight fists curled at the doctor’s side and the agitated steps as they hurried down on the corridor. He chose not to ask, chose to focus on willing his burning cheeks away, chose to think about Seungcheol’s face, his eyes blown open wide in surprise at the three words that had left his mouth.

 

It hit him all at once.

 

The pain was everywhere, _everywhere_ , and it hurt so _fucking bad._

 

\----

 

He woke up on the couch in Dr. Jung’s office, blinking rapidly at the darkness around him. He pulled himself upright, and his gaze fell on his left wrist, covered by the button down that he had donned for work today. He reached for it, afraid to find out what numbers that he would see.

 

13:20

 

He looked up, finding the doctor sitting by the window overlooking the grounds of the hospital, a cigarette dangling in between his lips. Jeonghan cleared his throat cautiously to get his attention, cringing when the sound came out cracked and slightly stuttery.

 

“Hey,” Dr. Jung crushed the cigarette in an ashtray before walking to his desk. Jeonghan watched him pour water from the electric kettle he kept in his office into a mug, watched him sit down in front of him on the floor before handing it to him. Jeonghan took the mug from him, muttering a quick thank you for before taking a sip. It was hot chocolate.

 

“How’s Seungcheol?” he asked, staring into the murky depths of the mug. Dr. Jung sighed, running his hands through his hair, and suddenly he looked older than his thirty years of age.

 

“He’s fine, we managed to get to him. He’s stable now.”

 

Jeonghan nodded, keeping his fingers wrapped tightly around the mug, grateful for the warmth that seeped through his skin and into his veins. Dr. Jung bit his lip before suddenly lurching forward, his hands resting on the student’s knees.

 

“Please, _please_ , tell him to get that bone marrow transplant. He has to, donors don’t come along so often. He _has_ to do it, he can _live_ , you don’t have to be alone--”

 

“Calm down, calm down, Dr. Jung,” Jeonghan gasped, setting his mug on the table on the side of the couch. “What has gotten into you? You have been off the whole day.”

 

Dr. Jung took a deep breath, hanging his head before pulling back, wrapping his arms around his legs as he rocked back and forth on the floor.

 

Jeonghan waited, watched the tears run down the doctor’s face, watched him try to come up with the words, but fail as he buried his face in his knees. It took him a lot of effort, and the words that came out of his mouth had Jeonghan freezing on the couch.

 

“Taehyung’s my soulmate.”


	2. breathe, start again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it never hurt to have a little faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2 is up!! 
> 
> I would like to thank all of you who have read "have a little faith, baby". It was quite tough writing this, but I also enjoyed writing this piece immensely because it was so out of my comfort zone. To my bb Ange, whom this fic is meant for, I hope you enjoyed reading this and I hope it lived up to your expectations. To everyone else, I hope all of you enjoyed this fic, and feel leave any comments or feedback for me if you wish to do so!

Jeonghan didn’t know what to make of everything. 

 

He was glad that he was all alone in his apartment; Soonyoung and Jihoon were pulling an all-nighter with the new boy group that their agency was going to debut soon, Jisoo was at church camp leading the night worship there. The silence in the apartment was deafening as he slid into a seat at the kitchen island and popped the cap off a bottle of wine. 

 

As the red liquid splashed into the glass, his hands trembled from the effort, and Dr. Jung’s words echoed in his ears. 

 

_ He can live _ . 

 

He raised the glass to his lips, feeling the warmth blossom in his belly as the alcohol slid down his throat and settled there. He set his glass back on the counter, running his fingers through his hair before yanking hard on his long strands, pulling them out of the ponytail that he usually donned in favour of his shadowing at the hospital. 

 

Seungcheol could live; he had a donor, a compatible donor, and his body was strong enough to accept the transplant. The first month would be painful, while his body went through the extra chemotherapy, acceptance of the donor cells, and the taking of medication to prevent graft-versus-host disease. Dr. Jung had mentioned that his body would be strong enough to take only the chemotherapy, and he would not need to go through the less intensive method. He would be in hospital for about a month or so, then he could recuperate fully at home. The percentage of his cancer remission was high; he would be able to slowly live a normal life. 

 

The numbers on their wrists would go up. 

 

He remembered the haunted look in Dr. Jung’s eyes, the way his hands trembled as he held Taehyung’s file in his hand. The sad smile that pulled at his lips and made his eyes water as he pulled up his sleeve to show Jeonghan the numbers there didn’t belong on the cheery doctor’s face at all. 

 

Dr. Jung Hoseok shouldn’t had to smile like that. He was a wonderful doctor, loved by all his colleagues and patients, respected and acknowledged by his bosses. He had graduated with first-class honours, at the top of his cohort, and his heart was just as big as the smile that he wore everyday. He was a good person, Jeonghan was sure of that

 

The universe however, seemed to think otherwise. 

 

\----

 

_ “Tae and I only have about a hundred days left or so together,” Dr. Jung muttered, his hands folded in front of him as they sat in a rather empty restaurant, having placed their orders. Jeonghan watched the emotions flicker across his handsome face, watched him trace the numbers counting down on his wrist.  _

 

_ “I met him when I was fresh out of med school, assigned to the hospital,” the older said wistfully, twisting the ratty string bracelets around his wrists, the colours bright and obnoxious against the cool hues of his clothing, “he had collapsed during his college final year project presentation. I was on my first day, nearly fainting from the pain in the corridors that came from my wrist. He was wheeled in, barely conscious, and I had just managed to stand up.”  _

 

_ “When our hands touched and our numbers lit up,” Dr. Jung sighed, the corners of his mouth turning up at the fond memory, “it felt so  _ right _ ; it was the best thing in the world. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open, but he had smiled at me, grasped my fingers, and said ‘wait for me’.” _

 

_ Their food had arrived, and Dr. Jung sipped at his wine as his bowl of cream ravioli was placed in front of him. Jeonghan picked up his fork and stuck it into his ink-sauce linguini, his eyes still glued to the doctor, who was clearly somewhere between the past and the present.  _

 

_ “I wanted so bad to trade his pain,” the elder’s voice was now pained, his fork frozen just inches from the pasta in front of him, “seeing him smile through the pain that was nothing compared to what I experienced during his bad days was just...”  _

 

_ He trailed off, stabbing a piece onto his fork before putting it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Jeonghan followed suit, swirling up a mouthful of food for himself. They chewed in silence for a few minutes, the look in Dr. Jung’s eyes distant and melancholy.  _

 

_ “I know there’s no way our numbers will go up,” Dr. Jung said quietly, scooping up some chicken bits from his soup, his gaze fixed on his food. “Still, it doesn’t stop me from hoping, it doesn’t stop me from being angry, it doesn’t stop me from loving Kim Taehyung any less.” _

 

_ Food was finished, the bill was split, and they stepped out into the cool air of the night. Dr. Jung walked Jeonghan to his car, watching him start up the engine before smiling at him.  _

 

_ “Seungcheol will think it’s unfair because Taehyung can’t get a transplant even if he wanted to; it is the only thing holding him back,” the doctor told him, his breath frosting in the cold night air. His scarf was a mix of black, green and white, and it was frayed at the ends and didn’t match his sleek outfit of burgundy and black at all. He caught Jeonghan looking at it, and smiled back at him, his eyes watery and droopy. Jeonghan saw the initials K.T.H. embroidered on one end, J.H.S. on the other, and suddenly the fashion clash made sense.  _

 

_ “He deserves to live, Jeonghan, and you deserve to love.”  _

 

_ He straightened up, tucking his face into the ratty scarf, his hands in his pocket. He smiled a little brighter, his eyes scrunching up into the sunshine smile that he had greeted Jeonghan on his very first day at the hospital. He nodded once, before turning around to walk to his own car.  _

 

_ “Dr. Jung!” Jeonghan called out, stopping the elder in his tracks. He turned around, one eyebrow quirked in a question at Jeonghan.  _

 

_ “Do you ever go home? I know you’ve been staying at the hospital even on the nights that you don’t have shifts,” Jeonghan’s palms are sweaty on the steering wheel, his throat tight. He knew he was asking the doctor a touchy question, but he needed to know, wanted to know why the other insisted on sleeping in his office, showered in the hospital bathrooms instead of going back to his apartment.  _

 

_ Dr. Jung had merely smiled back, the upturn of his lips covered by the ratty scarf, but the resignation on his face was clear despite the distance between him and Jeonghan.  _

 

_ “What’s a home if it’s without the person you love?” _

 

\----

 

“Cheol-ah.”

 

The raven looked up at his name from the book that he was reading, his eyes wide and curious. Jeonghan took a deep breath, smiled at his soulmate before nodding to the wheelchair that he was holding. 

 

“Let’s go out to the gardens for a bit, Dr. Hobi wants to talk to Taehyung.”

 

Taehyung’s head had jerked up from where he was fidgeting with something at the mention of his name, his eyes darting quickly to the door. His red hair was thinning, the colour faded, and his high cheekbones more prominent due to the repeated intensive chemotherapy that he had to undergo recently due to the deterioration of his condition. Jeonghan’s gaze was drawn to brightly coloured threads in his lap, the intricate braiding clasped tightly in his long fingers, and he swallowed down the tightness in his throat. 

 

“Kay,” Seungcheol lifted himself out of bed, slid into the wheelchair before grinning up at Jeonghan, one hand reaching up to entwine their fingers together, “let’s go Jeonghannie.”

 

Jeonghan’s heart soared at the nickname, and he smiled at Seungcheol, pushing him towards the doors just as they opened. Dr. Jung stepped into the room, his doctor’s coat gone, the bags under his eyes dark and the rims of his eyes swollen. He smiled wanly at both of them, held open the door, nodded at Seungcheol. 

 

“Have fun, Seungcheolie.”

 

“Mhmm, Doc Hobi!” 

 

Jeonghan didn’t miss the way Dr. Jung pulled his lower lip into his mouth as the door closed or Taehyung’s wide eyes as he stared at his soulmate, his fingers still holding onto the colourful threads tightly. The younger just had another attack this morning, and Dr. Jung had just straight-out collapsed in the corridor due to the pain, shaking with sobs, clawing at his wrist while his soulmate’s name came out of his mouth like a broken record. 

 

_ “Taehyung-ah, Taetae, you promised, you made me wait for you, I waited, Taehyung-ah. Don’t leave me, I love you, I love you so much, please, please, please...” _

 

If only love could give your soulmate their life back, Jeonghan thought bitterly. 

 

\----

 

“Jeonghannie.”

 

Jeonghan was pulled out of his thoughts by Seungcheol, who was playing with a flower that a child had given him on their way to the hospital gardens. They were near the buttercups, Seungcheol’s favourite flowers, and Jeonghan had sat on a bench before letting his thoughts float back to what had happened this morning. 

 

Despite all the pain, Dr. Jung had stumbled right to Taehyung’s side, grasping the younger’s larger hand in his own, pressing their clasped hands to his face. The tears hadn’t stopped, and the words that tumbled out of his mouth repeatedly still echoed in Jeonghan’s head. 

 

_ “Taehyung-ah, hold on, Taehyung-ah, I love you. I love you so much.” _

 

It was the first time Dr. Jung had broken down in front of Kim Taehyung, in the six years that they had met, realised that they were soulmates, and the elder had become the younger’s doctor. Nurse Bae had been quietly crying into her palm, telling Jeonghan in whispers and in between coughs and hiccups, that this was the first time Dr. Jung had openly lost it. 

 

“Jeonghannie,” repeated Seungcheol, his brow furrowed in concentration. Jeonghan forced a smile onto his face, reached out to slip his hand’s into Seungcheol’s. 

 

“Yes, Cheol-ah?”

 

“You want me to get that transplant, don’t you?”

 

Seungcheol’s voice was shaky, his fingers trembling around Jeonghan’s. Jeonghan felt his throat close up, but he knew he had to do this. It was not for him, it was for Seungcheol as well. 

 

“Yes,” his voice was small in his ear, but he gripped Seungcheol’s fingers tightly, gently turning to the patient’s head towards his. The raven’s eyes were downcast, but he slowly looked up at his soulmate, his grip on Jeonghan’s fingers equally tight. 

 

“Seungcheol-ah, I want you to listen to me.”

 

Seungcheol looked like he was going to protest, his mouth opening to do so. However, as he drank in the look on Jeonghan’s face, he slowly closed his mouth and nodded, his eyes wide in seriousness and his lips pressed tightly together. 

 

Jeonghan felt the tears prick at the back of his eyes, felt his throat start to close. He swallowed down the nerves, held the tears at bay, and opened his own mouth. 

 

“When I was eight, my soulmate clock stopped working for the first time. I was so scared back then, because it hurt so much, and Seungcheol-ah, do you know what was the first thought that came up into my head?” 

 

Seungcheol shook his head slowly, chewing on his lower lip. Jeonghan couldn’t help himself, reaching out with his other hand, smoothing his thumb across the abused lip. He leaned across to press a quick kiss to it before cupping the other’s face in his, looking right into his eyes. 

 

“I thought about my soulmate; I kept wondering what what happening to him or her, well in our case, it’s a he,” he laughed lightly, his thumb stroking across Seungcheol’s cheekbone. He was getting too skinny, the chemotherapy and the radiation therapy was taking its toll on him, and it made Jeonghan’s twist in his chest. 

 

“There wasn’t a single attack,not a single one, in which I didn’t think about my soulmate,” Jeonghan’s voice was low, and he felt the tears coming, choking up his throat. “I worried about him every day, I worried about whether I would wake up in the morning, and the numbers on my wrist would be four zeroes. I wanted to love him unconditionally, regardless of what he was going through. I didn’t want the zeroes, I wanted to meet my soulmate, tell him I love him, I love him, and tell him to be strong, so that we could spend the rest of our lives together.” 

 

Seungcheol was crying, the tears falling down his cheeks, his eyes screwed up with the effort. Jeonghan bit back his own tears, he couldn’t cry, not just yet. He had to finish. 

 

“I found  _ you _ , Seungcheol. I found you, and our numbers are nowhere near zero, nothing like that. It was magical, meeting you, touching you, finding out that we were soulmates. I wouldn’t,” he pressed their noses together, letting out a sob, the tears in his eyes threatening to fall, “ever, give up meeting you, and loving you, for  _ anything _ in the world.”

 

Seungcheol let out a loud sob, detangling his fingers from Jeonghan and reaching forward to clasp the student’s face in his hands tightly, pressing their foreheads together. Jeonghan felt the tears sliding down his face, felt his heart thump a little faster, felt the warmth blossom in his chest. 

 

Seungcheol leaned forward and their lips met. 

 

There were no fireworks exploding, no romantic love song playing dramatically in the background, no crowd applause falling deafeningly on their ears. It was sweet, gentle, and Jeonghan tasted the salt from their tears as their mouths parted and Seungcheol’s tongue swept inside his mouth, exploring the arches and dips inside. It made the butterflies in Jeonghan’s stomach burst into a hurricane dance, made his heart stutter, made him feel so  _ warm _ from the love he had for Choi Seungcheol. It spiraled through his veins, curled in his belly, and threatening to burst from his lungs, making him want to shout it out to the whole world. 

 

When they broke apart, he did nothing of the sort. Seungcheol gripped his hands, pressed their noses together, and kissed him again, and again, and again. 

 

“I’ll do it,” whispered Seungcheol against his lips, his face screwed up in sobs, his hands shaking on Jeonghan’s. 

 

The universe worked miracles, just not for everyone. 

 

\----

 

It was a painful one month, but it was worth every single minute for Jeonghan. 

 

He had held Seungcheol’s hand throughout all the pain, snuck into the ward late in the night to cuddle with him and kiss him. It was painful watching his soulmate struggle with the intense treatment and grow thinner with the pills that he consumed like water afterwards. 

 

However, when Dr. Jung looked up from Seungcheol’s file with a smile, his gaze resting on their entwined hands before nodding at them, Jeonghan felt fireworks bloom in his heart. 

 

The day Seungcheol checked out of the hospital, Jeonghan brought him back to his apartment. He watched the raven drink in the soft grey colours of the wall, take in the picture wall that he had set up on one side, pick out the many pictures that they had snapped across the time that they had come to know each other and love each other. Seungcheol had then crossed the room, taken him into his arms and kissed the breath out of his lungs. 

 

That night, as Seungcheol gasped into his mouth and they climbed to the peak of pleasure together in Jeonghan’s cramped, single bed together, Jeonghan thought he knew how love felt like. However, when they cuddled together, hair damp from the shower, under his quilt (handmade by his mother as a high school graduation gift), Jeonghan knew that love didn’t exist in just kisses, climaxes, with seeing stars behind his eyelids with the slide of skin and tongues. 

 

Love was knowing that Seungcheol was healthy, and that they had “together” ahead of them. 

 

\----

 

Taehyung’s funeral was two weeks after. 

 

Jeonghan and Seungcheol had showed up in pressed black suits, paid their last respects. Seungcheol had spent a little more time beside his friend’s casket, whispering some words to the other boy. They had put blush on his pale skin, concealed the dark eyebags of sleepless nights caused by pain, trimmed his fringe, dyed his hair back to dark brown.

 

It was Dr. Jung’s favourite colour on him, and also Taehyung’s personal favourite.

 

They had listened to the doctor speak about his soulmate, occasionally pausing to dab at his eyes as he told the crowd about his beloved soulmate, who never stopped smiling despite the suffering that he endured on a daily basis. 

 

“Taehyung is my sun,” Dr. Jung had said, looking out over the crowd, his eyes shiny, his hands trembling, “and he will always be. I will never stop using the present tense, just because he has left us. He became my sun on that day when we touched in the hospital six years ago, and he will always,  _ always _ be my sun.” 

 

They had watched the coffin being lowered into the ground, Dr. Jung’s arm wrapped around a small woman who had Taehyung’s eyes as he stood shoulder to shoulder with a man whose mouth turned down the same way Taehyung did when he was upset. Seungcheol was quietly sobbing into his palm, his other hand clenched tightly around Jeonghan’s. Jeonghan himself felt the tears sliding down his cheeks, but he only gripped the raven’s hand tighter and pulled him closer to his side, biting his lips to keep the sobs from coming out. 

 

Dr. Jung was right, Kim Taehyung was a sun; he always smiled like one. 

 

\----

 

“Jeonghan-ah, Seungcheol-ah.”

 

Jeonghan turned around at the call of his name, pulling on Seungcheol’s hand to get his attention, coming back to face with Dr. Jung. The doctor’s eyes were swollen and red, but his cheeks were dry, and his smile still as kind as the day Jeonghan met him. 

 

“Thank you for coming,” the doctor said softly, reaching out to place a hand on each of their shoulders, “Taehyung loved both of you very very much.”

 

Seungcheol nodded stiffly before looking up and smiling at Dr. Jung; Jeonghan squeezed his hand as encouragement as he opened his mouth to speak. 

 

“Thank  _ you _ for being such an amazing soulmate to Taehyung,” Seungcheol looked down for a bit before straightening up and looking at his doctor in the eye, “he wouldn’t stop talking about you, he always said that you made him so, so happy. Even with the treatments and the pain and pills, he always said that he was happy, and it was because of his Hoshikki-hyung.”

 

Dr. Jung’s smile trembled a bit at the corners, but his eyes remained dry. 

 

“He was the only one who would call me that,” he murmured, pulling his hands back to him as he looked down on his fingers, twisting a white-gold band on his right ring finger that now sat snugly beside the one with the chain design that he usually wore. Jeonghan blinked, his mind making the connection as he remembered a matching ring on Taehyung’s finger, where his hands were folded across his chest in his casket. 

 

“You proposed?” he questioned, his eyes catching the threaded braids still wrapped around the doctor’s wrists, noting three new ones in bright shades of green entwined with white and black on his left one. Dr. Jung laughed, the sound muted; it was like chimes tinkling in the warm summer wind that just caressed the metal ever so gently. 

 

“Nah, he did,” he stroked a thumb gently across the metal, a fond look on his face, “we got married three days ago; just our families and us at Taehyung’s home in Daegu, at the swing in his backyard, just like he wanted it.”

 

“Congratulations, Dr. Jung,” Jeonghan offered softly, hearing Seungcheol murmur his own beside him. Dr. Jung smiled at him, reaching out to clap a hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder. 

 

“Call me Hoseok-hyung. Seungcheol?” Jeonghan felt his soulmate stiffen slightly before he looked at his doctor, his eyes slightly wet. The elder smiled tenderly at him, reached out to ruffle his hair before grinning widely at at the raven. 

 

“Treat Jeonghan well. Love him like he loves you,” Dr. Ju-- no, Hoseok-hyung murmured, his eyes fixed on the simple gravestone a distance back, his gaze distant, but not painful or hurt. He snapped his gaze back to Seungcheol, nodded once before stepping away and moving to greet the other guests. 

 

Jeonghan watched him leave, wondered how he could still be so strong even after six years of being with someone that he knew would inevitably leave him. Jung Hoseok was an amazing person, he decided, and that was why he was a good doctor, and an even better friend. 

 

He was probably an amazing lover, a wonderful husband, a caring soulmate. 

 

The universe was cruel, but Jung Hoseok had managed to brave it all, with a smile on his face. 

 

\---

 

“Yoon Jeonghan. Marry me.”

 

It had been five months after Taehyung’s funeral. Jeonghan had completed his degree and was now studying for his KMLE; Seungcheol had gotten a job as a kindergarten teacher, and loved singing and playing with the children there. There had been no relapses, they still went for monthly checkups, but all was well, Seungcheol was healthy. 

 

He had his nose buried in his textbook, frantically memorising some terms he was unfamiliar with (why was medicine so  _ hard _ ?) when Seungcheol popped the question. 

 

“What?”

 

Seungcheol inched closer to him, smiling that gummy smile that was so bright it still stole Jeonghan’s breath away. He had bleached his hair blonde recently, and Jeonghan had cut his hair into a bob; they had all needed some change. 

 

“I said, marry me.”

 

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Now? Do you even have a ring?” 

 

“Nope!” Seungcheol was grinning, tilting his head to the side in the cutesy way that he believed passed off as aegyo. He knew that Jeonghan was weak to it, and the newly-minted medicine graduate could feel his heart beating just a little faster at the sight. Jeonghan snorted, pushing his lover away before attempting to focus on his studying, his cheeks flushed pink. 

 

“Then how do you expect me to say yes?”

 

“C’mon Hannie!” it was hard to believe that Seungcheol was actually about two months older than him, with the way that he acted so childishly sometimes. “I’ll get the ring tomorrow, you can just say yes first!”

 

“Choi Seungcheol! Is this your idea of a proposal?” Jeonghan snapped, his cheeks burning at the sudden request. He suddenly turned around and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, hiding his face into Seungcheol’s stomach, only making the blond laugh harder. 

 

“Yes,” he mumbled into Seungcheol’s shirt, inhaling the unique scent of chocolate and oranges that always lingered around his soulmate. He could live breathing it forever if he could, but his anatomy and digestive notes on the table told him otherwise. 

 

“Alright,” Seungcheol pulled him up, cupping his face gently, his eyes wide and bright, his grin stretching the entire expanse of his face, his cheeks just as flushed as Jeonghan’s own. “I’ll get the rings tomorrow, then we can get married soon.” 

 

Jeonghan laughed, felt love thrumming through his veins, felt the butterflies dance in his belly, felt his world fill up with so much light and warmth. He could fall in love with Choi Seungcheol every single day, and it would still be the same, like the day that they met ten months ago. 

 

“Alright.”

 

The universe only worked miracles sometimes, but it always never hurt to have a little faith.

 


End file.
